The Cloaked Mystic
by FalteredGAIT
Summary: England's monotonous, meticulous life as a nation is simply a bore. However, America's inviting warmth never fails to brighten up his day and leave him wanting more than ever. USUK/Fluff


**The Cloaked Mystic**

Perhaps it was on such nights as this that crimes were committed and news headlines were made. Perhaps it was on such eerily quiet nights as this that the loud, resonating sound of your own footsteps sped up your heart beat just a tick. Perhaps it was on such dark and shadow infested nights as this, that you regret rejecting your boyfriend's offer to pick you up from the station.

England scoffed at his own derision, persuading the voice inside his mind to dismiss the frightfully, almost obnoxious reverberations of the clacking of his own two shoes. _Perhaps another pair of soles were clicking against the rhythm of his pace_, the voice inside his head jested. A sudden _crash _and _bang_ of clattering metal forced his feet to cease in their gait, as a wave of paranoia washed over his entire being. _This is absolutely ridiculous – _England told himself, picking up his pace as the loose grip around his leather briefcase tightened subconsciously.

The asphalt street was dark and bare – dim street lights flickering to an erratic rhythm as shadows of all sizes and heights, danced around in a frenzy. A black cat stood, perched on an elevated ledge as its yellow eyes peered at him with a haunting glow. Then all of a sudden, with bestial elation, it leapt off with its tail stiff and hairs standing, retreating to pool itself in the vast ocean of sheer darkness. England shuddered, as a sudden gust of sharp, howling wind pierced the still night – only to disappear as it traveled around the corner. The deafening howl ceased so abruptly, it was almost as if it was devoured by the shadow-like entities, lurking around every corner, waiting for a chance to strike.

England sighed once again; his nose numb from the pinch of the cold night air. England shuddered once again; his palms beginning to sweat in the confines of his gloves.

He turned a corner, staring straight into the narrow scope of unwelcoming, murky obscurity. He almost wanted to make a mockery out of himself; to jeer at his own contemptuous ridicule. In the end, his attributes as a nation would not allow him to suffer a mortal death. So perhaps, his paranoia and mockery too, was simply a manifestation of his weariness of the monotony of his meticulous life as The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

"England!"

England stopped to look up at the owner of the voice. The owner who possessed such a bright voice to accompany such mesmerising, bright blue eyes.

"America."

The word ghosted over his tongue, drifting away with the breeze as he gave a small, upturned curve of his lips as compensation. His eyes darted around from the darkness pooling around his feet, to the bright warm glow of lights that shrouded America's quaint little home at the end of the street. America stood on the porch with the front door left wide open, nothing more than a simple flash of his smile illuminating the still night that melted away the lurking shadows; melted away any further restraint or distracting thoughts England had been holding onto.

"Hurry England, it's cold out here!" America said, gesturing for England to come up quickly – which the Englishman did so instantly without complaint.

"What took you so long to get here?" The American complained, a small pout decorating his everlasting, handsome features. "If you had just let me pick you up, we would've had more time together." he added, slinging an arm around England's shoulders as he took the briefcase off his hands.

England only gave him a gentle smile in reply, accepting the thoughtful gesture as he walked into the house alongside his partner.

**-U-S-U-K-**

"England, you hungry?" America asked, sticking his head into the fridge to scavenge around for mysteriously concealed can of coke.

England got up from the sofa in the living room, humming as he did so. On cue, his stomach grumbled in reply. America laughed, much to his dismay. "Well, what have you got?"

"Uh, let's see... there's some strawberries and other fruit, ham, feta, juice – oh, found my coke! - oh and some blueberry yoghurt too?" America remained in his bent position, looking back at England for an answer. However, England only gave him an incredulous look.

"Really." England said, his tone dismissive more than anything else.

America chose to ignore it and closed the fridge. "Oh, I know! There's this new take-out place that opened recently and they have _the best _creamy mushroom risotto I've ever had!" without waiting for England's reply, he spun on his heels and searched for something amongst the array of different magnets stuck on the fridge. "Even better, it's a twenty-four hour joint."

England watched him with a brow raised. In the least, he was unamused, because after having been completely separated for almost half a year, he couldn't bring himself to argue with such a familiar, endearing display. He found himself leaning forward against the kitchen island, simply watching America on the other side of the kitchen, supposedly ordering the food over the phone.

"-...land? Earth to England?"

Slightly startled, the Englishman looked up at the confused expression his lover had adorned. With a quiet chuckle, he paused, then walked around the island until he stood in front of Alfred, who no longer looked confused. England peered up to immerse himself in the myriad of beautiful emotions he felt when gazing into America's bright blue eyes, which were just simply so earnest and honest. When he saw a flash of lust in those orbs, he knew it was simply a reflection of his own longing gaze.

Wordlessly, England leaned up to connect their lips. His lips were still rather stiff and cold from having walked through the cold night, however America quickly solved that by warming it up with his own, nipping and softly biting at the flesh to soften it up. As their mouths parted, England slipped his tongue into America's moist cavern, probing his tongue gently. The latter responded immediately, one hand gently weaving through wheat golden locks, and the other pressed against the smaller back to deepen their connection.

England melted into America's warmth, his soft caresses and gentle touches. It seemed so surreal to him, having welcomed the familiar feeling of something akin to electricity run a course throughout his body at each touch. It seemed to surreal to him, simply kissing sweetly and gently instead of their usual passionate, frivolousness.

"I missed you so much." America whispered, as they parted briefly. Instead of swooping down for another, he encircled his arms around England tightly, holding onto him with an embrace that felt so desperate, yet innocent.

England closed his eyes and allowed himself to be held. He buried his face in the crook of America's neck and inhaled the distinct scent of his cologne. With a content smile gracing his lips, he whispered back sweetly, "I missed you too."

Unlike their usual vigour, noise and heat, they remained quiet – simply enjoying the physical warmth of holding each other, rocking side to side gently as they stood in the kitchen. Neither of the two uttered a word, steadily matching the rhythm of their calm breaths.

"England," America suddenly whispered, keeping a tight hold on his precious lover. England did not make any effort to move either, simply humming in response.

"You're not going back soon, are you?" America continued in a hushed whisper, his voice uncertain, almost as if he was afraid of the answer. The slight tensing in England's shoulders was all he needed, to know the obvious. In response to the others silence, America pulled himself away.

"No," he whispered, losing himself in the beautiful lime green orbs, "Stay." he paused, "Stay longer. Stay forever."

England reciprocated the gaze, apologetic. "America... you know I can't." he paused, tearing his eyes away. "I-I want to stay...but you know I can't." he paused again, biting his bottom lip, almost hesitant. "You know _we_ can't..." he trailed off, knowing that America knew what those unsaid words were.

America looked at him helplessly, disappointment etched all over his expression. "I know." he muttered, a hint of anger or frustration evident in his tone. Though he shared the same sentiment, England offered another small smile, circling his arms around America's neck to bring him down for another deep kiss.

**-U-S-U-K-**

Eventually, England had suggested they rest their legs on the sofa, which they did so with a random American action movie playing on the television across the room. Already two hours had passed since they sat down, had dinner and opted with cuddling and snuggling up together. Already, they had stolen dozens of glances and shared another dozen of chaste pecks and deep kisses. Already, they realised just how much they relied on each other emotionally. Physically. _Spiritually_.

England sat in America's lap with his back to the well-toned, chiseled chest hiding behind the nuisance of a shirt. He tilted his head up a pecked America's chin, asking for attention. America looked down with a slight blush and pecked his forehead.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" England asked, idly playing with America's hands.

America gave a thoughtful hum, "Whatever you want to do, England."

England chuckled, "I just want to spend as much time as I can, with you." They began to argue playfully, beating around the bush with their plans for the next day.

"We could just snuggle up together in bed all day and make do from there." America suggested, playing with strands of England's apple scented hair.

"I'd like that." England whispered in reply, closing his eyes in content. "And maybe I can finally patch up that flannel shirt for you."

"The one I've kept pestering you to fix since I accidentally ripped it last year?"

"Mhmm," England shifted around in America's lap, turning to the side to rest his head on America's left shoulder. "You could've just gotten it fixed at the tailor. Or maybe bought a new one."

America pouted, though, England wasn't aware. Nostalgia washed over him as he spoke, "It'll be pointless if _you _don't fix it up. That's the first thing you ever bought me when we first started going out. That's why I can never replace it or throw away the damn old thing."

When England didn't respond, America began to worry if he was going to denounce the value of the flannel shirt, or simply poke fun at him for what he had said. However –

"I'll sew it back up tomorrow afternoon." England mumbled, adding something incoherent under his breath as he looked up at America, cheeks painted with a deep, cherry red blush.

America chuckled in reply, finding his lover's embarrassment simply endearing and adorable. It was undeniable, that if those words slipped through his lips, England would be fuming. So instead, he pulled England closer to his body and brushed his messy hair back, placing another quick, yet sweet peck on his forehead.

"I love you, England." he whispered, "So much – you have no idea."

The blush on England's face only darkened further. "Y-you git..." he mumbled, in a low whisper, "_You're_ the one who has no idea just how much I love you."

"I love you more."

"Wha-! No, I do."

"Then prove it."

England shifted his position in America's lap again, into a slightly more awkward position that allowed him to directly face his love and lifeline.

"I love you, America." he paused, "So much, that I want to spend the night with you." he whispered finally, hints of lust beginning to cloud his bright, lime green eyes. However, when America saw this, he knew it was simply a reflection of _his_ own longing gaze.

**End**

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**A/N:** I'm such a sucker for usuk fluff. Can't get enough of it - in fact, I absolutely adore a rather docile England. I actually wrote this a few months ago out of boredom. Pray tell what you thought, I have a few others including a PWP smut I have lying around. (If anyone reading this is waiting for Periwinkle, please do wait a little longer! I just need to finish up a few exams...)


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